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He didn’t stop.

The slow rhythm on the sofa held as Grace’s second climax built under it deeper than the first, pulled out of her by every measured stroke and the steady press of his body.

Liam slipped a hand between them and rubbed her clit in firm, patient circles. Grace’s mouth opened against his shoulder.

Her thighs tightened around his waist. When she came, it was with a broken, muffled sound and a long internal clench that dragged a low groan out of him.

Wetness slicked his cock and the insides of her thighs.

He worked her through it without pulling out, slowing only enough to keep her from tipping into discomfort, until the shaking eased into smaller tremors and her breathing started to find a rhythm again.

He stayed inside her for another few strokes, shallow and easy, then eased back just far enough to see her face. Still hard.

Grace looked up at him with glassy eyes, lips parted, the careful woman from the kitchen completely gone. A faint sheen of sweat sat at her hairline.

The new necklace had twisted slightly against her flushed throat. Her breasts rose and fell with uneven breath, nipples still tight from his mouth.

”Bedroom,” he said.

She nodded.They moved without breaking contact for long. He withdrew carefully; she made a soft sound at the loss, thighs closing for a second as if to hold the feeling in.

The short hallway felt narrower than before. Her door was already half open.

The bed was made with the old sheets the new linens still in their packaging in the living room beside the shopping bags and the kettle box and she laughed once, softly, breathlessly, when her back met the mattress.

”I bought better ones today,” she managed.

”We’ll use them later.”He settled between her thighs again and pushed back into her in one smooth stroke.

Grace arched, a fuller sound leaving her now that they had space and a proper bed. She was still tight, still wet, still open from everything on the sofa, and the way she took him to the hilt drew a low sound from both of them.

Liam braced over her and fucked her deeper, still controlled, still thorough, the pace no longer careful so much as intentional. Every thrust filled her completely.

Every withdrawal left her lifting to follow him, heels catching lightly at the backs of his thighs.

He kissed her while he moved slow and deep, matching the rhythm of his hips. Then her throat.

Then her breasts sucking one nipple until it darkened and tightened under his tongue, then the other, while he kept driving into her in steady, rolling strokes.

Grace’s hands roamed his back, his shoulders, into his hair. The soft, helpless sounds she made turned denser, more continuous, filling the small bedroom.

Outside the closed window the street was ordinary night a car door, distant footsteps, the faint wash of traffic on the main road.

Inside, the bedframe gave small, steady answers to the motion of their bodies, and Grace stopped trying to keep her voice down.

”God... Liam”

He hooked one of her legs higher against his hip and drove into her at a deeper angle. Her mouth fell open.

Her fingers dug into his shoulders. The wet sound of their joining grew clearer in the quiet room, filthy and intimate.

He could feel her starting to tighten again, the flutter and clench building around him with every stroke, her body winding toward another peak whether she thought she had one left or not.

”Turn over,” he said against her skin.

Grace did, slower than a younger woman might have, limbs heavy with residual pleasure, and he guided her hips up, kissed the line of her spine, and pushed into her from behind in one long thrust.

The new angle dragged a rawer sound out of her fuller, less guarded, almost startled by how deep it felt.

He gripped her hips and fucked her in deep, rolling strokes, watching the way her back arched and her fingers curled in the duvet.

One hand slid around her waist and down between her legs to rub her clit again, firm circles matched to the pace of his hips.

Grace dropped to her forearms, face against the bedding, moaning openly with every thrust. The careful dignity she wore in daylight had no place here.

What remained was soft, vocal, and increasingly undone, pushing back onto him as the heat built past the point of restraint.

Her breasts hung and swayed with the motion. The necklace dangled and tapped lightly against her skin.

Every time he bottomed out she made a sound that was half moan, half broken breath.

She came a third time like that shaking, pushing back onto his cock, a cracked cry muffled in the duvet as her cunt clenched hard around him in strong, rhythmic pulses.

Clear fluid slicked his shaft and her thighs. Her arms nearly gave out.

Liam held her up through it, pace steady, until she was trembling and oversensitive under his hands, aftershocks still running through her whenever he buried himself to the root.

Only then did he let himself follow.

He buried himself to the hilt and came with a low, rough sound, flooding her while her body still pulsed around him.

He ground against her through every spurt, forehead resting between her shoulder blades, one hand still splayed over her hip, the other braced in the sheets beside her.

For a long moment they stayed locked together, breathing hard, the small bedroom thick with heat and the quiet evidence of what they had done.

When he finally eased out, Grace collapsed onto her side. Cum leaked down her thigh onto the old sheets in a warm, thick trickle.

Her hair was a mess across the pillow. The necklace was still on, slightly twisted. The green dress was a forgotten pile somewhere back in the living room with the shopping bags.

She looked thoroughly taken and quietly stunned by it, chest rising and falling, eyes half-lidded in the dim light, one hand resting loosely on the duvet as if she had forgotten what to do with it.

Liam lay down behind her and pulled her back against his chest. Grace laced her fingers loosely through his without looking back.

Their breathing slowed together in the dark. The apartment settled around them the faint tick of cooling pipes, the distant city, the ordinary quiet of a residential building that had no idea what had just happened in this room.

His free hand rested on the soft curve of her stomach. Her skin was warm. Every few seconds a residual tremor still moved through her thighs.

Neither of them slept.

After a stretch of quiet, her hips shifted slightly against him. Then again. When she felt him harden along the curve of her ass, she didn’t pull away.

She only pressed back a little more firmly, a silent answer in the dark, her fingers tightening once around his.

The night was not finished.And neither were they.